Thieves World1 (11 page)

'But none to Shalpa, patron of thieves,' Cappen put in, 'though these days he has the most devotees of any.'

Danlis ignored his jape. 'Ranke was quite a different country, under quite different gods,' she continued. 'Chief of these are Savankala the Thunderer, his consort Sabellia, Lady of Stars, their son Vashanka the Ten-Slayer, and his sister and consort Azyuna - gods of storm and war. According to Venafer, it was they who made Ranke supreme at last. Mattathan is more prosaic and opines that the martial spirit they inculcated was responsible for the Rankan Empire finally taking Ilsig into itself.'

'Yes, milady, yes, I've heard this,' Jamie said, while Cappen reflected that if his beloved had a fault, it was her tendency to lecture.

'Sanctuary has changed from of yore,' she proceeded. Tt has become polyglot, turbulent, corrupt, a canker on the body politic. Among its most vicious elements are the proliferating alien cults, not to speak of necromancers, witches, charlatans, and similar predators on the people. The time is overpast to restore law here. Nothing less than the Imperium can do that. A necessary preliminary is the establishment of the Imperial deities, the gods of Ranke, for everyone to see: symbol, rallying point, and actual presence.'

'But they have their temples,' Jamie argued.

'Small, dingy, to accommodate Rankans, few of whom stay in the city for long,'

Danlis retorted. 'What reverence does that inspire, for the pantheon and the state? No, the Emperor has decided that Savankala and Sabellia must have the greatest fane, the most richly endowed, in this entire province. Molin Torchholder will build and consecrate it. Then can the degenerates and warlocks be scourged out of Sanctuary. Afterwards the Prince-Governor can handle common felons.'

Cappen didn't expect matters would be that simple. He got no chance to say so, for Jamie asked at once, 'Is this wise, milady? True, many a soul hereabouts worships foreign gods, or none. But many still adore the old gods of Ilsig. They look on your, uh, Savankala as an intruder. I intend no offence, but they do. They're outraged that he's to have a bigger and grander house than Ils of the Thousand Eyes. Some fear what Ils may do about it.'

'I know,' Danlis said. 'I regret any distress caused, and I'm sure Lord Molin does too. Still, we must overcome the agents of darkness, before the disease that they are spreads throughout the Empire.'

'Oh, no,' Cappen managed to insert, 'I've lived here awhile, \ mostly down in the Maze. I've had to do with a good many so-called magicians, of either sex or in between. They aren't that bad. Most I'd call pitiful. They just use their little deceptions to scrabble out what living they can, in this crumbly town where life has trapped them.'

Danlis gave him a sharp glance. 'You've told me people think ill of sorcery in Caronne,' she said.

'They do,' he admitted. 'But that's because we incline to be rationalists, who consider nearly all magic a bag of tricks. Which is true. Why, I've learned a few sleights myself.'

'You have?' Jamie rumbled in surprise.

'For amusement,' Cappen said hastily, before Danlis could disapprove. 'Some are quite elegant, virtual exercises in three-dimensional geometry.' Seeing interest kindle in her, he added, 'I studied mathematics in boyhood; my father, before he died, wanted me to have a gentleman's education. The main part has rusted away in me, but I remember useful or picturesque details.'

'Well, give us a show, come luncheon time,' Jamie proposed. Cappen did, when they halted. That was on a hillside above the White Foal River. It wound gleaming through farmlands whose intense green denied that desert lurked on the rim of sight. The noonday sun baked strong odours out of the earth: humus, resin, juice of wild plants. A solitary plane tree graciously gave shade. Bees hummed.

After the meal, and after Danlis had scrambled off to get a closer look at a kind of lizard new to her, Cappen demonstrated his skill. She was especially taken - enchanted - by his geometric artifices. Like any Rankan lady, she carried a sewing kit in her gear; and being herself, she had writing materials along. Thus he could apply scissors and thread to paper. He showed how a single ring may be cut to produce two. that are interlocked, and how a strip may be twisted to have but one surface and one edge, and whatever else he knew. Jamie watched with pleasure, if with less enthusiasm.

Observing how delight made her glow, Cappen was inspired to carry on the latest poem he was composing for her. It had been slower work than usual. He had the conceit, the motif, a comparison of her to the dawn, but hitherto only the first few lines had emerged, and no proper structure. In this moment - the banner of her brightness harries The hosts of Shadowland from off the way

That she now wills to tread - for what can stay

The triumph of that radiance she carries?

Yes, it was clearly going to be a rondel. Therefore the next two lines were: My lady comes to me like break of day.

I dream in darkness if it chance she tarries.

He had gotten that far when abruptly she said: 'Cappen, this is such a fine excursion, such splendid scenery. I'd like to watch sunrise over the river tomorrow. Will you escort me?'

Sunrise? But she was telling Jamie, 'We need not trouble you about that. I had in mind a walk out of town to the bridge. If we choose the proper route, it's well guarded everywhere, perfectly safe.'

And scant traffic moved at that hour; besides, the monumental statues along the bridge stood in front of bays which they screened from passers-by - 'Oh, yes, indeed, Danlis, I'd love to,' Cappen said. For such an opportunity, he could get up before cockcrow.

- When he reached the mansion, she had not been there. Exhausted after his encounter with Illyra, Cappen hied him to the Vulgar Unicorn and related his woes to One-Thumb. The big man had come on shift at the inn early, for a fellow boniface had not yet recovered from the effects of a dispute with a patron. (Shortly thereafter, the patron was found floating face down under a pier. Nobody questioned One-Thumb about this; his regulars knew that he preferred the establishment safe, if not always orderly.) He offered taciturn sympathy and the loan of a bed upstairs. Cappen scarcely noticed the insects that shared it.

Waking about sunset, he found water and a washcloth, and felt much refreshed hungry and thirsty, too. He made his way to the taproom below. Dusk was blue in windows and open door, black under the rafters. Candles smeared weak light along counter and main board and on lesser tables at the walls. The air had grown cool, which allayed the stenches of the Maze. Thus Cappen was acutely aware of the smells of beer - old in the rushes underfoot, fresh where a trio of men had settled down to guzzle - and of spitted meat, wafting from the kitchen. One-Thumb approached, a shadowy hulk save for highlights on his bald pate.

'Sit,' he grunted. 'Eat. Drink.' He carried a great tankard and a plate bearing a slab of roast beef on bread. These he put on a corner table, and himself on a chair.

Cappen sat also and attacked the meal. 'You're very kind,' he said between bites and draughts.

'You'll pay when you get coin, or if you don't, then in songs and magic stunts. They're good for trade.' One-Thumb fell silent and peered at his guest. When Cappen was done, the innkeeper said, 'While you slept, I sent out a couple of fellows to ask around. Maybe somebody saw something that might be helpful. Don't worry - I didn't mention you, and it's natural I'd be interested to know what really happened.'

The minstrel stared. 'You've gone to a deal of trouble on my account.'

'I told you, I want to know for my own sake. If deviltry's afoot, where could it strike next?' One-Thumb rubbed a finger across the toothless part of his gums.

'Of course, if you should luck out - I don't expect it, but in case you do remember who gave you a boost.' A figure appeared in the door and he went to render service.

After a bit of muttered talk, he led the newcomer to Cappen's place. When the minstrel recognized the lean youth, his pulse leaped. One-Thumb would not have brought him and Hanse together without cause; bard and thief found each other insufferable. They nodded coldly but did not speak until the tapster returned with a round of ale.

When the three were seated, One-Thumb said, 'Well spit it out, boy. You claim you've got news.'

'For him?' Hanse flared, gesturing at Cappen.

'Never mind who. Just talk.'

Hanse scowled. 'I don't talk for a single lousy mugful.'

'You do if you want to keep on coming in here.'

Hanse bit his lip. The Vulgar Unicorn was a rendezvous virtually indispensable to one in his trade.

Cappen thought it best to sweeten the pill: 'I'm known to Molin Torchholder. If I can serve him in this matter, he won't be stingy. Nor will I. Shall we say hm - ten gold royals to you?'

The sum was not princely, but on that account plausible. 'Awright, awright,'

Hanse replied. 'I'd been casing a job I might do in the Jewellers' Quarter. A squad of the watch came by towards morning and I figured I'd better go home, not by the way I came, either. So I went along the Avenue of Temples, as I might be wanting to stop in and pay my respects to some god or other. It was a dark night, overcast, the reason I'd been out where I was. But you know how several of the temples keep lights going. There was enough to see by, even upwards a ways. Nobody else was in sight. Suddenly I heard a kind of whistling, flapping noise aloft. I looked and -'

He broke off.

'And what?' Cappen blurted. One-Thumb sat impassive. Hanse swallowed. 'I don't swear to this,' he said. 'It was still dim, you realize. I've wondered since if I didn't see wrong.'

'What was it?' Cappen gripped the table edge till his fingernails whitened. Hanse wet his throat and said in a rush: 'What it seemed like was a huge black thing, almost like a snake, but bat-winged. It came streaking from, oh, more or less the direction of Molin's, I'd guess now that I think back. And it was aimed more or less towards the temple of Ils. There was something that dangled below, as it might be a human body or two. I didn't stay to watch, I ducked into the nearest alley and waited. When I came out, it was gone.'

He knocked back his ale and rose. 'That's all,' he snapped. 'I don't want to remember the sight any longer, and if anybody ever asks, I was never here tonight.'

'Your story's worth a couple more drinks,' One-Thumb invited.

'Another evening,' Hanse demurred. 'Right now I need a whore. Don't forget those ten royals, singer.' He left, stiff-legged.

'Well,' said the innkeeper after a silence, 'what do you make of this latest?'

Cappen suppressed a shiver. His palms were cold. 'I don't know, save that what we confront is not of our kind.'

'You told me once you've got a charm against magic.'

Cappen fingered the little silver amulet, in the form of a coiled snake, he wore around his neck. 'I'm not sure. A wizard I'd done a favour for gave me this, years ago. He claimed it'd protect me against spells and supernatural beings of less than godly rank. But to make it work, I have to utter three truths about the spellcaster or the creature. I've done that in two or three scrapes, and come out of them intact, but I can't prove the talisman was responsible.'

More customers entered, and One-Thumb must go to serve them. Cappen nursed his ale. He yearned to get drunk and belike the landlord would stand him what was needful, but he didn't dare. He had already learned more than he thought the opposition would approve of-whoever or whatever the opposition was. They might have means of discovering this.

His candle flickered. He glanced up and saw a beardless fat man in an ornate formal robe, scarcely normal dress for a visit to the Vulgar Unicorn.

'Greetings,' the person said. His voice was like a child's. Cappen squinted through the gloom. 'I don't believe I know you,' he replied.

'No, but you will come to believe it, oh, yes, you will.' The fat man sat down. One-Thumb came over and took an order for red wine - 'a decent wine, mine host, a Zhanuvend or Baladach.' Coin gleamed forth.

Cappen's heart thumped. 'Enas Yorl?' he breathed. The other nodded. 'In the flesh, the all too mutable flesh. I do hope my curse strikes again soon. Almost any shape would be better than this. I hate being overweight. I'm a eunuch, too. The times I've been a woman were better than this.'

'I'm sorry, sir,' Cappen took care to say. Though he could not rid himself of the spell laid on him, Enas Yorl was a powerful thaumaturge, no mere prestidigitator.

'At least I've not been arbitrarily displaced. You can't imagine how annoying it is, suddenly to find oneself elsewhere, perhaps miles away. I was able to come here in proper wise, in my litter. Faugh, how can anyone voluntarily set shoes to these open sewers they call streets in the Maze?' The wine arrived. 'Best we speak fast and to the point, young man, that we may finish and I get home before the next contretemps.'

Enas Yorl sipped and made a face. 'I've been swindled,' he whined. 'This is barely drinkable, if that.'

'Maybe your present palate is at fault, sir,' Cappen suggested. He did not add that the tongue definitely had a bad case of logorrhea. It was an almost physical torture to sit stalled, but he had better humour the mage.

'Yes, quite probably. Nothing has tasted good since - Well. To business. On hearing that One-Thumb was inquiring about last night's incident, I sent forth certain investigators of my own. You will understand that I've been trying to find out as much as I can.' Enas Yorl drew a sign in the air. 'Purely precautionary. I have no desire whatsoever to cross the Powers concerned in this.'

A wintry tingle went through Cappen. 'You know who they are, what it's about?'

His tone wavered.

Enas Yorl wagged a finger. 'Not so hasty, boy, not so hasty. My latest information was of a seemingly unsuccessful interview you had with Illyra the seeress. I also learned you were now in this hostel and close to its landlord. Obviously you are involved. I must know why, how, how much - everything.'